


'cause i just feel so tired/you either move or slowly die

by edbloom, ryukyubat (edbloom)



Series: here's to teenage memories [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Insecurity, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Self-Destruction, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27891271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edbloom/pseuds/edbloom, https://archiveofourown.org/users/edbloom/pseuds/ryukyubat
Summary: "it's frustrating. not being able to live up to the potential everyone says you have—it's a searing type of annoyance, the type that lingers like smoke rings at 3 am, itches like a braided bracelet against your wet skin, creeps up on you like the shadows in the parking lot when you're all alone."repress, get drunk, reset has always been the name of minghao's game.—'Cause I just feel so tiredLike I need something to come aliveShe said, "you ain't you when you're like thisThis ain't you, what you done?"And I said, "That's the point"
Relationships: Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Series: here's to teenage memories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036170
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	'cause i just feel so tired/you either move or slowly die

**Author's Note:**

> another self-projection piece from your's truly!
> 
> how .... fantastic is that :/
> 
> also minghao's pronouns are xe/xem!!
> 
> enjoy !!
> 
> \- ely

it's frustrating. it really is.

minghao thumbs at the tip of xe's pencil, looking over the messy sketch. another failed figure staring back at xem.

it's frustrating. not being able to live up to the potential everyone says you have—it's a searing type of annoyance, the type that lingers like smoke rings at 3 am, itches like a braided bracelet against your wet skin, creeps up on you like the shadows in the parking lot when you're all alone. it builds, that's what it does, it settles, pebbles on the pit of your stomach, building a foundation that is so strong you can't bury it out of the ground anymore; the roots of it are connected to the walls of your stomach, stretching to your throat, vice grip on the nerves of your linings as it digs and _digs_ —relentless and unforgiving.

inadequacy. minghao lets out a painfully bitter chuckle.

that word. again. haunting you like a phantom, like a ghost, like it wants something—reparations, maybe, or your soul. the word is tinged everywhere in your life; in the tick of a clock, in the creek of the floorboards, in the sycamore tree shadow that covers your bedroom window at 12 noon every single day. it lingers in the mundanity and the extraordinary. sometimes you see it in the murals you paint, sometimes it's in the words you write, or sometimes it's in the way you talk to smiling faces, wondering if the smiling is genuine.

inadequacy is a word minghao wishes to burn, to watch the embers of fly out into space, never to be seen again. insecurity is a word minghao wishes xe could drown, the same way it drowns xem the moment xe wakes up—water in xe's lungs every single day at exactly 7 am. minghao wishes xe could watch the way words suffer, wishes words _could_ suffer—exactly the way xe does.

"hao?" someone calls out for xem, it's enough to pull xem out. just a little bit—but it does. minghao turns to him, blank look on xe's face, grip still tight on the pencil, lead digging into xe's thumb.

hansol doesn't look at xem, decides to assess the room instead; assess the sketchbook, assess the pencil in xe's hand, the crumpled papers beside xe's bed, the tipped over can of acrylics on xe's desk, and the paint covering the pads of minghao's fingers. his eyes trail and trail until he finally looks at minghao, concern so clear on his face. minghao doesn't really like looking at him when he looks like that. so xe chooses to turn away, chooses to turn xe's attention back to xe's sketch.

"hao? you good?"

"sure."

he just sighs, hansol knows xem so hansol knows this, and hansol absolutely knows what comes next. minghao doesn't watch him leave.

it's 2:13 AM when minghao tries to climb the old oak tree in hansol's backyard, drunk out of xe's mind, xe can't think straight nor can xe walk straight but minghao tries, xe does—and xe almost makes it, almost, but oak trees are slippery things after a rain shower, and minghao makes it to the first branch before xe slips. back hitting the grassy ground, it forces a laugh out of xem, delirious and manic.

minghao brushes xe's fingers against the soft grass, watching the way it bends to accommodate xem. enticing was the prospects of just falling asleep on the dewy, soft grass and minghao would've if xe could but his descent into sleep was stopped by the click of the patio door. hansol emerges from the shadow, an oversized faded neon shirt on and some boxers.

_he looks good_ , minghao thinks before sitting up slightly. he _also_ looks sleepy and tired, hair messy in a way that would make you think he'd been asleep this whole time—but minghao knows better, simply because minghao knows him and hansol knows xem.

this wasn't exactly a routine, minghao wasn't exactly getting drunk to the nines every week, but it did happen a lot, especially when minghao got into one of xe's moods. the ones where insecurity festers and eats away at xe's insides like parasites. drinking helps minghao reset, hansol says that isn't true. hansol says alcohol helps minghao forget and repress, says it doesn't reset but instead buries the resentment deeper in xe's skin, buries it six feet under in minghao's chest. hansol says that's why there's a sycamore tree growing in him, tall and sturdy, because minghao never does anything to stop it. minghao doesn't really argue after that, how could xe when hansol knows xem so well.

so instead, minghao stands on xe's feet, with the careful assistance of hansol. he'll take minghao's hand in his and lead xem inside, he'll guide him up the stairs, careful to hold xem, in case xe slips. hansol will open his bedroom door, preparing a fresh set of clothes for minghao to sleep in. he'll let minghao shower in his bathroom, make sure there's still hot water available. hansol will have a water bottle prepared when minghao comes back from the shower, he'll tell minghao to drink and xe will because minghao doesn't like arguing when it comes to hansol. minghao will finish half of the bottle before giving it back to him. minghao will take hansol's hand and lead them both to the bed. minghao will lay down and wait for hansol to do so as well. and minghao will close xe's eyes, secure with the warmth of hansol beside xem, sleep coming easy with an arm wrapped around xe's waist.

by morning, minghao will tell hansol why xe drank this time and hansol will listen. and minghao will pretend that there is no tree digging at xe's nerves and rooting itself on the linings of xem. that there is no parasite eating away at xe's brain. that the embers of the fire rising from xem weren't a smoke signal for help, just a bonfire that has grown too big.  
  


minghao will pretend because that was how it went.

_repress, get drunk, reset._

**Author's Note:**

> twt:  
> [@wzcle](http:/twitter.com/wzcle)
> 
> cc:  
> [@junle](http:/curiouscat.me/junle)


End file.
